(1803-1818 / England)

The Swallow Leaves Her Nest

THE swallow leaves her nest,
The soul my weary breast;
But therefore let the rain
On my grave
Fall pure; for why complain?
Since both will come again
O'er the wave.

The wind dead leaves and snow
Doth hurry to and fro;
And, once, a day shall break
O'er the wave,
When a storm of ghosts shall shake
The dead, until they wake
In the grave.

User Rating: 1,7 / 5 ( 16 votes ) 1

Comments (1)

as swallow leaves nest, soul leaves weary breast Robust romanticism when he wishes let it rain fall pure on his grave.